


That Was a Lie

by MultiVerSonalityDisorder



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Headcanon, Lies, One Shot, Pre-Canon, Toxic friendship, movie quotes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 18:56:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14063358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MultiVerSonalityDisorder/pseuds/MultiVerSonalityDisorder
Summary: Héctor lies. Good thing he apologizes for that.





	That Was a Lie

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, all. If you've been a reader of mine before, I apologize for not being able to write much the past year. It's been very busy in my personal life and trust me, I'm looking forward to my freedom soon. I want to write so much more. For now, though, I fell in love with Coco as a film and Héctor as a character so much that I was able to squeeze in a small bit like this. I hope you all like it and to new readers: Welcome!
> 
> I apologize for anything incorrect in terms of the Spanish as it is not my native language. Please feel free to correct me or give me tips/pointers on any aspect of this fiction.
> 
> Obviously I don't own any property concerning the film Coco.
> 
> Thank you. :)

“So, you really think nothing of her, _amigo_?”

“ _Absolutamente no_ ,” Héctor shook his head before sipping from his glass. Sitting in a bar with his oldest friend, Ernesto, the young musician chuckled to himself as the warm liquid filled his body and sent a tingle through his veins. “I have way too much on my mind. I have a lot to write and practice.” He nudged the older man’s shoulder, “Don’t you remind me of that all the time?”

 Héctor was barely seventeen. He and Ernesto had just gotten done with a small show at the plaza. The crowd was decently sized, and the applause actually sounded like a real applause and not just some pity claps from onlookers. And, of course, she was in the crowd. Or, rather, she was standing on the sideline, talking and swaying just enough to be called dancing with a friend of hers. She was smiling, her eyes lit up as she twirled once at the moment that Héctor’s guitar rose in pitch before drastically falling down to a deeper note. It was almost as if she could read the music. But, Héctor knew that was impossible. Just luck. Just beautiful, beautiful luck.

Ignoring his friend’s comment, the twenty-one year old Ernesto took his own sip with a smug smile on his lips. He exhaled after setting his glass down on the bar, his cheeks becoming rosy, “I hear _muchos chismes_ , you know?”

This intrigued Héctor. A dark brow rose, “What kind of _chisme_?”

“What do you think?”

“I dunno,” the younger gave another friendly shove at the other. “ _Continua. Dime.”_

With a chuckle, Ernesto carried on, “I hear she looks at you.”

Héctor scoffed, “I’ve gotten a lot of looks from people while playing. It’s not always a good thing.”

“Héctor,” Ernesto almost looked incredulous at the younger’s words, “this is a small town. I know you haven’t spoken with her much, but you mean to tell me you’ve never considered…?”

 _“¿Con ella?”_ the twig-like male snorted into his glass before taking another sip, then placing the empty container on the bar in front of him. “ _That’s_ a terrifying picture.”

Crossing his arms in a challenging display, Ernesto pushed, “You mean to say that if she waltzed in right now and asked, you wouldn’t go for it?”

Héctor waved Ernesto’s words away, “ _Nunca_. Even if she is _una belleza_ , she’s definitely _un poco loca_.”

“You are a cruel man, _mi amigo_ ,” Ernesto shook his head as he clapped a large hand on the younger’s back.

“I’m a man with a dream,” Héctor corrected the other. “Besides, I’m sure everything you’re hearing is just nonsense. People in this town think anyone who speaks five words to each other must be _almas gemelas. Es estúpido_.”

“Whatever you say, _muchacho_. Whatever you say.”

* * *

 

Several days later, Ernesto and Héctor were in the plaza once more. Playing their hearts out. At least, Ernesto was giving his all and Héctor was a bit distracted. He did his best to keep his focus in place, but he couldn’t fight that his gaze was jumping around to try to find her. She was always at their performances. Every time. Since their first show.

Now, she was nowhere to be seen. He noticed that his fingers missed a few notes, lost the beat more than once, and his voice died halfway into the song before he jumped back in on the chorus. This was not his most impressive night, so maybe it was better that she hadn’t shown up. Maybe it was better…

There was a cheer despite his mistakes when their final song finished. He waved to a few in the crowd, his smile nervous and tired while Ernesto soaked in the attention. Héctor supposed he deserved it since he was so lousy tonight. He sighed as their audience dispersed. Still he couldn’t find her. She wasn’t even lingering in one of the distant corners as she had done in the beginning. His stomach dropped and his insides were doing flips. He swallowed thickly as Ernesto’s eyes landed on him.

He cleared his throat, “I-I’m gonna go for a walk.”

“Héctor…?”

“I’ll be back,” he assured the other. “Just need to clear my head. _Lo siento_.”

Ernesto didn’t speak as he watched the other slip away with his guitar.

* * *

 

He knew where she lived. He knew he’d be an idiot to go there. To assume that she had nowhere else to go if she wasn’t watching him play. She had her own life. She was an adult. Hell, she was a year older than himself. Maybe that’s one of the things that was so attractive about her.

She was mature, but even then she had this vibrant youth that shined so brightly that she seemed to be the only one in the plaza watching him, dancing to his music, singing some of the lyrics she picked up from his previous performances. They had spoken from time to time; it was inevitable when you lived in Santa Cecilia. He remembered watching her from afar as a child. She was a bit scary at times when she would reprimand her younger brothers so openly, and any other boy that dared to cross her. It was as amusing as it was intimidating. He couldn’t help watching the scenes fondly and rooting for her. Her strength matched her name in every way.

She was just so…impressive. He remembered the first time he had an actual conversation with her. It was shortly after her fifteenth birthday. He was sitting at the plaza, singing softly as he tweaked his guitar to sound properly. A lanky youth who had yet to grow into his ears and nose, his shoes falling apart, and his clothes covered in a thin layer of dust. She came out of nowhere and he nearly fell into the fountain when she surprised him. She laughed softly at his reaction and he smiled sheepishly.

“Here,” she handed out a torta stuffed with ham and cheese. He blinked at her offering, then up at her. “Mamá says you are _muy flaco_.”

He blinked at her twice more before hesitantly taking the torta, “ _G-Gracias.”_ He set his guitar beside him against the fountain edge. He parted his lips, licked at them nervously as she watched him, and he coughed out, _“S-Soy Héctor.”_

She snorted at him, “I know that _tonto_.” She cocked her hips and rested a palm atop them. “I’ve only seen you around at least once a week for as far back as I can remember.”

He coughed awkwardly, cheeks pink, _“S-Sí.”_

“You _do_ know my name, don’t you?” she rose a brow, daring him to get it wrong and face her wrath.

 _“Imelda!”_ he blurted. He sucked his lips in almost instantly, inwardly berating himself for acting like such a fool.

She smirked, arms now crossing in front of her bosom. His eyes looked her over, and he almost didn’t hear her ask, “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“O-Oh, oh!” He nodded and took a bite.

“Well?”

He swallowed hurriedly, nearly gasping for air after forcing the lump down his throat. “ _B-Bien_.”

“ _Bueno_ ,” she smiled, and his chest tightened. “Then, I’ll see you around, _Héctor_.” She turned on her heel and slipped away before he could say anything else.

The way she said his name, like it _belonged_ on her lips. The way her hair bounced in time with her hips as she walked. The curvature of her body. The shine on her skin. Her voice – oh, her voice! – rang in his ears to where it sounded like she was still talking to him even when she was long gone from his sight. He sighed to himself, chewing the remains of his torta slowly, eyes dazed. It wasn’t until Ernesto showed up with a puzzled expression that Héctor snapped out of the spell she left on him.

Things continued like that for the last few years. Though, each time he would attempt to counter her attacks. Trying to learn from their previous encounters to act more naturally in front of her. Instead, he’d act like a loon, he was a sure. Saying crazy things without thinking. Trying to impress her with dumb tricks that only had her rolling her eyes at him; though he was certain he could see a smile on her face despite it. She had teased him at the way his facial hair was growing in sporadically, and he became much more self-conscious of his appearance.

This all seemed to amuse Ernesto, much to Héctor’s chagrin. Ernesto began to pester him over and over, and it got to the point where he had to insist that there was nothing. There was nothing. That was the truth. However, not wanting to be with her? To hold her? Kiss her? To talk to her all night until the sun was shining once again? It would be a lie to deny these feelings, and lie he did. If not only to shove his friend’s nosiness – he claimed he was worried about Héctor’s concentration of their longest most beloved dream – aside, but to also protect himself. To assume she wanted the same thing when she could have any other guy in the town was just… He just couldn’t do it, okay? But, now…

She wasn’t there that evening.

So, here he was, walking until his shoes stopped. Freezing just a few yards away from her front door. His mouth open subtly as he stared blankly ahead. There she was. In one of her more casual dresses, her hair up in a loose braid, a bag in her arms full of groceries. She was smiling as she was talking with Maite; the young woman who lived just around the corner from Imelda’s home. Héctor wondered what it was that they were talking about.

What was making her laugh? What was causing that smile that hadn’t shown up at his latest performance? He wasn’t sure how long he was standing there, but eventually Maite glanced over and giggled. He flushed, inhaling sharply while Imelda blinked in curiosity before looking in the same direction: Directly at him. It took a moment before he was standing there awkwardly with a crooked, nervous smile. He gave a wave to the two women and Maite hid a laugh behind her palm as Imelda scowled at him. He froze, spine stiff as his smile fell. She was scowling at him? Imelda turned to Maite, nodding her head in farewell, then turned on her heels to walk to her front door. Not caring that the other female hadn’t quite walked away, Héctor rushed to catch her.

One hand on the strap that crossed his chest while the other reached for her shoulder. He called out her name and spun her to face him just before she made it to the door. She huffed at him, face red and eyes like daggers making him freeze in place. His voice caught in his throat as his mouth fell stupidly, trying to grasp for any vocalization he could.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Imelda hissed softly, making his chest sting and his adrenaline rush. He was sweating now, and his knees trembling.

“ _N-No sé_ ,” he murmured through quickly drying lips.

Maite released a not very well hidden chuckle from her spot, observing the two with a sick pleasure that made Héctor’s ear twitch attentively. He could feel the flesh beneath the collar of his shirt heat up while Imelda’s scowl grew. She went to turn once more, but his hands instinctively jerked out to grab hold of both of her shoulders to keep her facing him.

“Y-You weren’t there,” he blurted.

“I wasn’t _where_?” the way she said it was like a challenge. A challenge he seemed comfortable taking. Or, he was just a big enough idiot to not be able to stop his damned mouth.

“ _La plaza_ ,” he answered.

“And, why would I be there?”

“ _P-Porque_ …I was playing…and…”

“And, I should be there?”

“Uh…well…it’s just…”

“Look,” Imelda huffed with a roll of her eyes, “I _don’t_ want to talk to you. I _don’t_ want to see you, either.” She placed a hand on his chest, over his racing heart. She seemed to falter, and he wondered if she noticed, “And, I _want_ you to stay away from me.”

His breathing stopped. The world went mute for a moment and she stepped back to place some distance between the two of them. “No,” it was a soft insistent plea. “ _¿P-Por qué?_ ”

“ _¿Por qué?_ ” She nearly glowered. “ _¿Por qué?_ ” She shoved at his chest with her free hand. “You have the nerve to ask me that after what you said?”

“What I said?” he blinked at her in bewilderment. Had he said something to her? “ _¿Qué?_ ”

A hand on her hip, Imelda replied with her voice tight, “‘ _That’s_ a terrifying picture.’”

That took the young man off-guard. His mouth dropping open, but he couldn’t ask the question before she continued.

“’Even if she is _una belleza_ , she’s definitely _un poco loca_ ’.”

 _That_ hit Héctor. His grip on her shoulders faltered and slipped away. She turned once more, her back quickly facing him.

“ _¡Espere!_ That-!” He rushed around her, arms out as if to help him block her from her front door. “That was a lie.” His face was frantic, eyes wide and panicked. “And, I apologize for doing that.”

“If you’re sorry, then you shouldn’t have lied in the first place,” she nearly spat.

“I-Imelda, _por favor_ ,” his voice cracked. “Let me explain? I didn’t say that to hurt you. I mean it. Le-Let’s talk.”

There was a reluctance in her demeanor, but eventually Imelda heaved a sigh. She knew Maite was still watching from behind. She didn’t acknowledge it, adjusting the grocery bag on her hip. “Let me get this inside, first,” she answered as a condition to lending her time for his explanation. “You stay out here.”

Mutely, Héctor nodded. He stepped aside, hands nervously gripping the guitar strap over his chest as he watched her enter her home. The door closed behind her, and Maite left to return to her own home with a wild laugh that had him just a tad bit concerned. He stood outside. Shuffling on his feet, sweat on the back of his neck and heat shooting up his throat and under his chin. He muttered to himself, trying to think of how to exactly explain what happened and why he did it. He didn’t want there to be any further misunderstandings.

Well, it wasn’t a misunderstanding on what he said, but he _had_ to explain why it happened. _Why_ he chose those words. _Why_ they weren’t just untrue…but the complete _opposite_ of how he felt.

Five minutes went by. Ten. Fifteen. Before Héctor realized it, almost an hour passed. He sighed, eyes drooping in part shame and part disappointment as he looked at the door. His legs were starting to ache, and his stomach made a noise that was a clear request for food. It was getting late, and the stars were starting to show.

He looked around, and a part of him was relieved that nobody else was in the area. It was a little embarrassing, but at this point he figured he deserved it. His eyes returned to Imelda’s home with a bit more determination. He still had to tell her. With his luck, if he left for the night she would just continue to avoid him and they’d never talk again. Even with living in such a small town.

So, he sat down, crossing his legs and placing his guitar in his lap. His eyes flickered to the front door before he started to check the tuning of his instrument; his best friend. Happy with its condition, his fingers gently strummed the strings absentmindedly. Héctor sighed once more. He hummed, trying to occupy himself while he waited and hoped that Imelda would step out. He refrained from making too much noise as he didn’t want to upset her family, but, oh, how he wanted to sing. He wanted to truly serenade her.

He would. One day. He knew it. He envisioned it. She would be laying on the couch, lounging comfortably with a book in her hand as he sat on a stool nearby, playing a new song he wrote just for her. When he’d be done with his song, she’d close her book and beckon to him. He’d kneel down beside her and she’d grab his face and…

His head jerked up as he heard some commotion inside. His eyes blinked as his heart skipped. Would she come out soon? It was already over an hour, now. However, there was no sign of Imelda. His shoulders sagged, but he was resilient. His fingers went back to strumming, a more proper tune to accompany his humming. A steady song, his eyes bouncing with a small spiteful laughter aimed mostly at himself as he sang the lyrics in his head.

The wind blew noisily, but he was able to block it out, in his own world while he did what he loved most. Thinking about what he loved most. As he neared the end, he couldn’t help but whisper the last two lines, “And if I weren’t so ugly, she’d possibly give me a chance.” A part of him wished dearly that Imelda was on the other side of that door, ear pressed and desperately listening to him. He knew that wasn’t the case. She wasn’t that type of girl. Woman.

Another hour was passing, and he started to shiver as his legs began to go numb. Almost painful with the prickling sensation that ran from the tip of his toes to his knees. Even his fingers were starting to burn from the chilled air and blistering abuse from the strings. With the dark sky above, Héctor decided it would probably be more comfortable elsewhere. He struggled to stand, his legs almost giving out before screaming from the blood rushing back into place. He grunted, limping closer to the house. He leaned against the exterior wall, a foot away from the door before pressing his spine against it and sliding down back to the ground.

Héctor stretched his legs out, the bones cracking despite his youth, and he sighed pleasantly while hugging his guitar. His eyes closed, and he tried to relax. After all, it wasn’t like he’d never slept outside before.

* * *

 

He woke with a gasp. A cold splash to his face had his head jerking upwards. He rose up on his elbows, not realizing at first that he had fallen onto his side in his sleep spooning his guitar. He coughed, wiping at his damp face and shoving his dripping locks out his eyes. Héctor looked up, smiling sheepishly at the disgruntled look on Imelda’s face, the glass empty in her palm with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

He cleared his throat, awkwardly sitting up, “I-Imelda, _buenos días_. You look – !”

“ _Cállate_ ,” she replied sternly. “ _Idiota_ , what were you thinking?!”

His smiled turned more sincere as the sleep was fading from his aching body; damn the ground for not being the slightest bit comfortable. “We were going to talk,” he reminded her, as if she hadn’t purposely abandoned him outside. “You told me to stay out here. So I did. _Soy un caballero después de todo._ ”

“ _Caballero_ ,” Imelda scoffed. Her narrowed eyes were intent on his soft expression. His eyes were a bit bloodshot, exhaustion was still evident in his body and even the cheerful aspect of his teasing tone. Despite any wrath that bubbled within her all night, she couldn’t help but sigh. “Come inside,” it was part suggestion and part command. Héctor blinked, almost amazed that the words even left her lips. “Mamá is making breakfast. We’ll eat, and then you can tell me why I should continue talking to _un mentiroso_.”

Héctor’s heart sank at the word “ _mentiroso_ ”. He didn’t want her to have such an image of him, but he couldn’t blame her. He had hurt her. Something he never wanted to do.

“I-!”

“No,” Imelda rose a hand, “I mean it. _After_ breakfast.”

It took the musician a moment before he agreed to the terms. He stood, legs wobbling once more as he braced himself against the wall. He inhaled slowly, exhaled, and then turned his goofy beaming grin at the older youth who rolled her eyes. She shooed him inside, adding a quick insistent, “Ignore _mis hermanos_.”

* * *

 

“Imelda,” he said her name softly as they walked down the street. The morning meal was delicious, though a bit awkward. He did his best to ignore Felipe and Óscar as they asked him a million questions with dozens of not so subtle suggestive accusations. Imelda’s papá and mamá were a bit suspicious themselves, but her mamá was a mamá first and focused on making sure all the young ones were happily fed. He blushed at that. It had been a while since someone treated him like a child instead of a young no-good bum. It felt…nice.

Meanwhile, Imelda was quick to drag him out, barely giving him an opportunity to thank her parents for their kindness once breakfast was finished. As they walked, his hands were in his pockets, his guitar on his back, and the young woman beside him continued with her stiff posture and defensive display of having her arms crossed in front of her.

Héctor sighed, glancing at her nervously, “That lie…it was for Ernesto. I had no idea that someone could be listening in, and that was stupid of me. I know how this town is, and yet…I let something like this happen.” He turned his body to better face her as his eyes and tone were just on the edge of pleading, “Ernesto…I _had_ to say it, or…I felt that I had to…he’s…he…” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, the night having erased everything he planned on saying from his mind with sleep. Damn it all. “We have a dream, _ves_ , and he’s especially protective of it…Ernesto, _mi amigo_ , has a habit of trying to get rid of ‘any distractions’ that could get in the way of it and I was afraid he might…he might look at you and think…”

Imelda couldn’t help but raise a brow as her steps faltered. She stopped completely, quizzical expression evident as she inquired, “What do you mean ‘get rid of’?”

Quickly, Héctor waved his hands as if trying to erase the ideas that were flying above her head. “I don’t mean anything _horrible_ , I just meant…” His cheeks were pink which struck a chord in Imelda’s chest. Damn this younger man for being so… “Whenever I…noticed someone he would interfere…” His face fell and she wondered how many times he experienced this situation. “Ernesto…he is _mi mejor amigo_ , and he wants what’s best for me. He cares a lot. He kept me focused on our dream, but…it’s different now…” He insisted. His eyes were wide, perhaps scared that she wouldn’t believe his words. His cheeks were turning red across his tanned skin. “I don’t want to stop seeing you. I don’t want you to stop coming to my shows. I want to talk to you more. I want to…” Feeling brave, Héctor reached out and gingerly swept a knuckle over Imelda’s, “ _Me gustas. Me gustas mucho_.”

Time seemed to freeze after he said that. Imelda was almost surprised he didn’t childishly claim to love her. It wouldn’t have been the first time someone had done such a thing, but for some reason she was almost disappointed he hadn’t this time. However, for some reason, hearing what he did say seemed to cause an even worse reaction than one would think. She quickly felt her cheeks heat up and she turned her head away, her hands quick to her sides while her knuckle buzzed alive.

Héctor’s brows rose as his eyes widened. His face quickly scrunching up in worry as he made to touch her shoulder, but quickly dismissed that thought in case he made things worse. “Imelda?” his voice was tender, soft, low as he said her name.

The young woman shivered subtly. Her face down as she screamed at her heart to cease its ridiculous quickening pace. She exhaled slowly, shakily as she still refused to look at him, but at least reply; albeit hesitantly, “ _Yo también_.”

The musician blinked, wondering if he heard her whispered words incorrectly. It was much harder to admit that there was any hope than to fall for it. “ _¿_ _Perdón?”_

“ _¡_ _Yo también!_ ” Imelda blurted, shoulders becoming rigid all while she made sure that her back was to him. She couldn’t live with herself if he saw her face right then. “ _Me gustas mucho._ ”

Héctor thought his heart stopped right then and there. He dashed around her, trying to see her eyes, but she was quick at noticing his intentions and blocked him once more with her back. “ _Imelda_ ,” his voice cracked as his hand gingerly gripped her shoulder, trying to stop her from moving as he once more attempted to face her. “Imelda, _por favor_ , look at me?”

The young woman kept her head down despite allowing him to hold her shoulders in place. He was taller, so even as he tried to duck he couldn’t quite see her face. The tall gangly fool. When it seemed evident that she was going to be stubborn, Héctor did what he could and he released her shoulders only in order to wrap his arms around her. Her eyes snapped open as her face was suddenly in his chest; his embrace tight, but not constricting. His cheek was atop her scalp as they stood there in the middle of the morning for all to see. She didn’t care, though.

She didn’t care if there were rumors. She didn’t care what people thought of them. Her own slender arms slipped to slither around his middle. It took the musician off-guard, but he smiled warmly into her roots.

“Imelda,” his voice was soft, a tender whisper. “Imelda, won’t you be mine?” Her heart skipped. It wasn’t exactly a declaration of love, but she knew Héctor’s words were full of passion and sincerity. His heart was speeding and thrumming against her ear like a drum beating to one of his crazy songs. “Give me a chance? Give _us_ a chance? I know I don’t have a lot, or anything,” he attempted a dry chuckle in spite of himself, but his body was trembling too hard with nerves to pull it off, “but not seeing you for even a day… _eso me mata_ …won’t you let me get to know you better?”

Small hands gripped the back of his shirt, sliding beneath the heavy guitar and letting her fingers dig into the fabric. She inhaled shakily, trying to regain some sort of composure. She figured she could stand to lose some of it seeing how much of a mess he was already. She leaned back to try to peek at him, and thankfully he was quick to catch on as he copied her actions. He leaned back, his arms still tight around her, afraid to let her go. Her eyes were hard, but shining softly with unshed tears. Her face red and her hair subtly coming out of place from her braid. “On one condition,” she stated sternly. “I’ll…We can talk  more, if you agree to one thing.”

“ _¡_ _Sí_!” Héctor’s eyes were practically begging as the corner of his lips began to curve upwards in the form of a nervous smile. “ _¡_ _Cualquier cosa_! Anything for you.”

Imelda held back a small bubble of laughter that threatened to rise from her throat at the younger man’s reaction. He was adorable. She tried to be strict with her words, attempting to harden her stare, “ _No. More. Lying. ¿Comprende?_ ”

Héctor nodded hurriedly, his head almost seeming like it would fall off from how much it was moving.

“ _Bueno_ ,” Imelda smiled softly. She sighed, leaning back into their embrace as she whispered, “Now, hold me. Just for a little more.”

“ _Siempre_ ,” Héctor whispered back as he held her to his chest securely. “ _Lo que digas_.”

 

Several months later, they married. Nine months later, they had Coco. Several years later, he died. Nearly a century later, they fell in love all over again.

**\- End**


End file.
